


as time goes by

by ndnickerson



Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Break Up, Established Relationship, F/M, Ficlet, Goodbyes, Kissing, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-10-18 16:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10621137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: No relationship can survive five thousand miles and three years apart. Can it?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from imagineyourotp:
> 
> Imagine that your OTP felt that they’re at the end of their relationship, but wants to end in a spectacular note. They decided to host a break-up party. At the end of the party, they decided to have one last goodbye kiss, for old-time’s sake. 
> 
> This was originally published at my Nancy Drew fanfic tumblr, nancydrewdiary.

Above anything else, Nancy and Ned are realists. Their relationship won’t survive five thousand miles apart. It can’t.

But there’s too much between them to let go so easily, and Ned is going to be gone for three years, and when his friends decide to throw him a going-away party, she’s invited as his girlfriend. She still  _is_ his girlfriend; when he boards the plane, though, that will be the end for them. One chapter of her life closed, and the next about to begin. She will find out who she is without him, and he without her.

The snow has tapered off, but it’s still bitterly cold in Chicago. His friends managed to reserve a rooftop dining area at an exclusive restaurant, and she knows everyone there once she arrives. They’re all sad to see him go, excited for the opportunity and all he will achieve—and the best way to reconcile it, it seems, is to drink.

He has a lot of hugs to give and goodbyes to say. Nancy loses count of the toasts, or the sympathetic glances Bess and George cast her way. She told him that it would be good, that she will always be his friend and his biggest supporter. He will always be the first man she ever loved. She won’t regret it.

And, damn him, he looks incredible when he wraps Nancy in a warm hug, picking her up a little. “Thanks for coming.”

“Like I could stay away.” She kisses his cheek. “Bags packed, passport ready, everything prepared?”

He nods, searching her eyes. “Everything ready to go.”

And there’s nothing to say, nothing at all. All the frustration, broken dates, missed phone calls, confessed flirtations… it’s all faded, and left their friendship behind, and she’s content. She has to be. She will be. It just doesn’t make sense, to hold onto this, when they don’t have space for it in their new lives.

Three years from now, he will be a different man, and she will likely be a different woman. She won’t have trouble finding someone else, and she can’t imagine he will either. Three years from now.

But it’s not three years, it’s the rest of their lives. And she’s happy for him because she’s willing herself to be, because this is a great opportunity, and…

And it’s going too fast. Before she even has time to realize it, the party is winding to a close. Ned’s promising to send emails and post updates, to take plenty of pictures, to bring back interesting souvenirs.

Then she’s the last one, because she can’t bring herself to leave without saying goodbye to him in person. They’ve been together a long time, and with every memory shared and toast given during the party, she had felt it like a eulogy for their relationship, too. It’s almost done, only a few drops left to drain, and she cannot be greedy for more. There would be no point. There is no point.

So she will always love him. It doesn’t mean he’s the  _only_ man she will ever love, she tells herself firmly.

“New case lined up?”

She shrugs. “Aunt Eloise has a friend who could use my help, and I’m flying out in a few days…” She snuggles a little deeper into her down-filled coat. “So that’ll be a nice distraction.”

“Distraction?” He smiles and shakes his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call a possible case a ‘distraction.’”

“Well, I’ve never said goodbye to the—to… to us, before.” She feels a stinging in her nose and tries to ignore it. “Not like this.”

“Hey.” He wraps his arm around her shoulders and gives her a little squeeze. “We’ll still talk and send pictures to each other, and I’ll find you some really great present for your birthday and air-mail it back. It’ll be all right.”

She looks down and can’t speak, her throat is so tight. He sounds so relaxed and happy. He’s moving on. She owes it to herself to move on, too. “Yeah,” she finally manages to whisper.

“It isn’t goodbye, Nan. It’s just…”

It’s just that it’s over. Through no fault of his or hers, it’s over, and she feels like she’s losing more than her best friend. She wouldn’t dream of holding him back, and he won’t hold her, either.

She can’t speak, and her eyes are shimmering when he reaches down and crooks his finger under her chin, drawing her face up so he can look at her. His polite smile fades, the mask slipping, and for a second she sees the anxiety and fear and sorrow in his face, too.

“We’ll just be different. And it will be better. It will.” He nods like he’s trying to convince himself, too.

But then his gaze locks to hers and she can’t look away, not for a long time. Finally she clears her throat and glances down at her watch. “So I guess I should let you go,” she says finally, and her heart is sick. “You know. You’ll need your rest for that long flight.”

“Yeah.” He reaches for her and hugs her, and she closes her eyes, a pair of tears finally slipping down her cheeks. She’s never liked goodbyes, and this feels like the most painful one she has ever had to say.

Then he brushes his lips against her earlobe. “Hey, one last kiss? For old times’ sake?”

She nods, but when she moves back and he lowers his face to hers, their kiss isn’t soft and chaste. It’s warm and it feels desperate, almost brutal; she twines her fingers in his hair and he nips at her and she is totally lost. She doesn’t want it to end. She never wants it to end.

She never wants  _them_ to end.

When Ned begins to pull back she leans forward, keeping her lips pressed against his, and he gives her one last kiss. Her eyes remain closed. For as long as she doesn’t see him say goodbye, he can’t. It won’t be true.

He slowly releases her, placing her back on her feet, and she can’t help it. Her lashes are wet and she knows mascara is probably tracked down her cheeks, and she doesn’t care. She opens her eyes and looks into his.

If he can walk away, she has to let him go. She knows it.

Then he reaches up and cups her face. “Three years,” he says softly. “It’s too long, isn’t it?”

Some note in his voice makes her stomach flip. “Maybe,” she whispers. “Maybe not.”

He leans forward and kisses her one more time. “I won’t ask you to wait for me, Nan.”

“And I won’t ask you to wait for me, either. If you find someone else—”

“If you do—”

She searches his eyes. “But if we can’t?”

“Then I guess we’ll know once and for all,” he murmurs. “I’ve always loved you, Nan, and I always will. And I love you enough to let you go.”

“And I love you enough to let  _you_ go,” she whispers. “For three years. I’ve always loved you, Ned. No matter what.”

He reaches for her hand and gives it a squeeze. “Until we meet again, Nan.”

She nods, and she manages to keep herself from crying until she’s flagged down a cab, until he’s out of her sight. Then nothing can stop her.

Three years. Maybe she’ll change her mind; maybe this pain will heal more easily than she thinks.

But she has a feeling that her heart won’t be whole until she’s in his arms again.


	2. 1097 days

Nancy did try to be fair.

She did date again, two months after Ned left. If she hadn’t, she knew she would always wonder. Ned couldn’t be the only man on earth who was compatible with her.

She was both dismayed and pleased to find out that was true. She dated a guy at UC who was working on his medical degree, and found out that they could talk for hours—when he wasn’t drowning under his responsibilities, anyway. She dated a cute detective with Chicago PD who could keep up with her during her cases. She dated a guy who approached her in a bar one night, who turned out to be a bank manager; he didn’t look quite so appealing in daylight, she discovered. She dated a guy who hadn’t had the nerve to ask her out until after he had found a job working somewhere other than her father’s firm. She dated a guy she met during a case, who was handsome, sophisticated, and charming, who did everything he could to sweep her off her feet—and if circumstances had been just a little different, maybe he would have.

Anyone she felt that spark with, the spark she would have been tempted by while she was dating Ned, she went out with again. She told herself over and over that it wasn’t a contest, that Ned wasn’t the measuring stick she should compare each of them to, that it wouldn’t be so bad to see if she was sexually compatible with any of them, either.

But her heart was claimed. She told herself over and over that Ned, wherever he was, might be naked and wrapped around some other girl, telling himself that they were free, and he would be right. When the invitations for a cup of coffee or one last drink at her date’s place came, she accepted them.

No matter how much she tried to convince herself, though, she couldn’t take the next step. Oh, they shared impassioned conversations, hugs and lingering kisses; she had done those things with other men before, and confessed her indiscretions to Ned. But when it was clear the man she was dating wanted or expected more, it was easy to fall back onto the old excuse.

“I’m sorry. You’re incredible but I’m just not ready, not yet.”

Most of them respected it. The others were given bruised shins or worse, until they respected it.

Bess and George told her that she had to decide, once and for all: acknowledge that Ned was gone, give another guy a real chance with her, and move on with her life, or destroy herself wondering. After all, she and Ned had agreed: they were going to be free to see other people for three years, and she couldn’t expect him to commit to her  _now_.

Most nights, she cursed herself for ever saying it had sounded like a good idea. But she knew that they had been right, to break up before his departure. When he returned, she wanted to be resolved: but above everything else, she didn’t want to be the same person he had left behind. Maybe she would fall for someone else, maybe she wouldn’t, and maybe she would decide that freedom was better than being tied down, but he wasn’t the center of her world and didn’t want to be, and she was grateful that she wasn’t the center of his either. She rationed her phone calls and emails, giving them both the time and space to figure out what they wanted.

Once they had been apart a year, she made a list one sleepless night. Without him, she hadn’t felt guilty about dating men who had seemed appealing. She hadn’t spent nearly so much on gas or car maintenance as she had when she had been driving back and forth to Emerson—but then, that hadn’t been Ned’s fault, and he was graduated now.

Without Ned, Saturday nights had seemed unbearable, and even agreeing to dates on those nights hadn’t helped; by midnight she was staring up at the ceiling, missing him. Without Ned, that  _ache_ in her chest only seemed to grow. She couldn’t believe he had only been gone a year. She couldn’t imagine enduring two more years without him.

And, she realized, she had been spoiled by Ned. He knew her so well that sometimes he almost seemed to read her thoughts. He was caring and generous and affectionate, and she didn’t feel like she had to change who she was around him or for him. Being around him just made her want to be  _better_. Being around him and with him had  _made_ her better.

She didn’t want to feel anyone else’s arms around her. She didn’t want to be with anyone else.

Once she gave herself permission to abstain from dating for a while, she felt relieved. She had never realized how often she used the excuse of having a “steady back home” to cut off a flirtation once she tired of it, and it wasn’t that the thrill was gone—but a great deal of it had been due to her curiosity, she figured out. Maybe she had  _needed_ this kind of break just to show her that what she was missing wasn’t all that great anyway.

The second December they were apart, a week before Christmas, a box arrived for her. She recognized the stamps and postage it bore even before she recognized his handwriting, and wondered how long ago he had sent it so that it would make it to her in time for the holiday.

_These made me think of you._

_As always, I miss you. Stay warm and safe, Detective Drew, and have a Merry Christmas._

Inside, along with two bags of fruit-flavored candy which wished her “good luck!”, she found two wrapped boxes. One was a blue velvet jewelry box, and inside she found a jade pendant fashioned to look like a sleek, placid owl. The other box held a blue silk bag embroidered with gold and red designs. She opened that and found a handsome journal bound in dark-red leather, with a metal clasp. Ned had inscribed the first page.

_A diary to fill with tales of your exploits. Until we meet again, Detective Drew._

She did fill it: with accounts of her cases, with her bittersweet feelings as she served as Bess’s maid of honor and helped plan her wedding and danced with Bess and George’s polite male cousins at the reception, with her trepidation when her father began seriously dating again. She wrote about what brought her joy, and what reminded her of Ned so much that it took her breath away.

For a while, when she had been younger, she had believed that she had not been meant for a lasting, committed relationship. She hadn’t been sure she was meant for any relationship at all. Their separation made her realize that she could be alone, that she enjoyed her freedom and liked knowing that her spontaneous decisions likely wouldn’t hurt anyone the way they had hurt him.

She also realized she wanted  _more_. Hurting Ned hurt  _her_. It had just taken her a while to understand that. Without his presence in her life to anchor her, she realized she was becoming more isolated, and she hated that. Everything was changing around her, and she wanted so badly to run to the comfort of his presence, but she couldn’t. At least, not immediately.

During the third year, when she casually mentioned that she would only be a short plane ride away during her next case and she could request an entrance visa, Ned told her he would like that.

The anticipation of that visit was enough to choke her, to make her almost explode with it. She had counted the days, marked them off, crossed the halfway point with a feeling of incredible relief. More time was past than ahead of them. To see him again after so long—it made her feel almost sick with longing.

Then her plans changed—the saboteur confessed before her arrival, and she was so frustrated that she actually did cry. She had bought all his favorite candies and snacks to give him, but more than that, she felt such visceral longing for him that her disappointment felt infinite. When her father’s business trips took him near Ned, Nancy was on other cases; every time she thought she might have enough time and money for the trip, the Mustang needed another repair or someone else asked for her help.

They had given each other three years. But she had learned her lesson; she didn’t need any more time.

–

One thousand and ninety-six days after his departure, Nancy is standing at the kiosk displaying the departures and arrivals screens. She is alone, and she’s grateful for it; she isn’t eager for the pressure of witnesses or an audience. The terminal is bustling around her, but in Los Angeles the weather is gorgeous and sunny. The sun has been sullen and cold over Chicago for the past few months.

When she said she would be at the airport to greet him, he assumed she meant O'Hare, and she didn’t correct him.

Now that it’s so close, though, she’s having second thoughts. Maybe she should have waited until they were alone back home to talk to him, instead of surprising him during his layover. Maybe this is a mistake. Maybe she should have worn that blue dress he loves instead of dark jeans and a heather-gray shirt with a pink sequined heart embroidered on the chest. The jade owl pendant hangs from a gold chain around her neck.

But she’s well past the point of turning back. She takes the elastic out of her hair and shakes it out, gathering it back into a ponytail before she walks toward the gate again. She’s so impatient to see him that she hardly knows what to do—but she’ll know from the second their eyes meet if she is wrong. They have been so careful, and she knows that he misses her and home, that he was able to do and see so much during the three years away, that there have been other people, but the warmth in his voice and his words has never changed when it’s come to her.

She paces until his flight is given a gate, and then she paces between the gate and the kiosk, checking her watch and the panoramic windows, straining to comprehend any announcement through the intercoms. When his gate changes, she almost screams in frustration.

The anxiety when she sees his plane taxi to the gate without letting any passengers off immediately is worse. Her hair is back down and tumbling down her shoulders, and she checked her reflection anxiously in the restroom during her last visit, scrutinizing her face, wondering what he’ll see in her when he looks into her eyes.

All the passengers, when the first ones disembark, look exhausted, some grumpy, some blissful. Nancy searches their faces even though she knows that Ned is flying business class and likely won’t be off the plane at first, and feels a sudden rush of panic. It’s been three years; what if she doesn’t know him immediately?

Then she spots a tall, muscular man, dark haired, square-jawed—and when their gazes meet her heart is beating so hard she can feel it echoing through her. Ned’s eyes widen in surprise, and the lines of exhaustion on his face soften; he’s carrying a messenger bag and a sweater, but when he sees her he sets off toward her as fast as he can, opening his arms.

It was right. She was right.

He’s laughing when he scoops her up, holding her tight, and she hugs him hard in return, her grin so wide her face hurts. The other traffic is winding around them but she doesn’t care; she can’t let him go, not this soon.

“What are you doing here? I thought…”

“I had to see you,” she murmurs, and when he puts her down she reaches tentatively for his hand. “I just couldn’t wait.”

“So you flew to Los Angeles?”

She smiles. “After all those missed connections, at least this was something I could manage.”

“I’m flattered.”

“You should be.” Together they join the rest of the traffic streaming through the terminals, heading toward the departure gate for the O'Hare flight. “So you liked the sweater?” she asks, nodding at it. She sent it to him for a Christmas present.

“Loved it. Well,  _love_ it. And the necklace looks good on you.”

She touches it gently. “It was very thoughtful of you.”

“I’m guessing Chicago is just like I left it.”

“Maybe an inch or two more snow, but practically.” She glances up into his face. “Bess is married, I have a new apartment, my father’s engaged…”

He nods. “I remember,” he tells her softly, and glances over at her. As the third year dwindled to a handful of months, then weeks, then days, their conversations have grown longer, like they were already trying to make up for the length of his exile. She filled the journal he sent her months ago; she’s been able to talk about almost everything, now. Everything save the only thing on her mind.

He’s exhausted and she’s keyed up and he’s only barely set foot on American soil, and he has a lot to process and she’s just had this feeling pent up for  _so, so_ damn long now. One thousand and ninety-seven days. She’s been counting.

They manage to find two seats together at the departure gate, their hands still joined. When she looks at him, she can see the subtle differences—the paler cast of his skin, and his hair has been trimmed—but he’s still so familiar that she can’t believe she isn’t dreaming. He smiles at her, searching her eyes, and it’s still  _so hard_ , so damn hard to say what she’s feeling.

“I didn’t find anyone else,” she says, gazing at him. “Because there is no one else.”

“But you saw other people.”

She nods, and his shoulders slump a little. “I did. And that’s how I know.”

“And I saw other people too. I spent a long time seeing if it was possible to find someone else who could mean as much to me as you do. And no one compares. No one even comes close.” He reaches up and touches her cheek, and her eyes are gleaming.

“I don’t want to waste any more time,” she tells him.

“I don’t either. Nan—”

“Ned, I—”

They stop at the same time, and she can’t look away from him. If she doesn’t say it now, a part of her is afraid that they will gradually decide that if they could endure three years apart, if neither of them was completely devastated by the absence of the other, then what they have isn’t enough. They haven’t been a couple for three years. And she’s afraid that the version of him she’s constructed through her thoughts and wishes and dreams, their conversations and her longing, doesn’t really match the man sitting beside her now.

The silence lasts until each of them is at the verge of speaking, but they can’t help speaking at the same time.

“Let’s try again.”

They say it almost the same way, almost the same time, and for a few seconds she can’t believe her own ears. “You want to date me?”

“If you want,” he answers. “You know, we could start slow, get to know each other again… catch up on everything we haven’t had a chance to talk about yet. Go from there.” He pats his pocket. “When are you…”

“Flying back? When you are.”

He turns a questioning glance on her, then chuckles and shakes his head. “That’s how tired I am; I should have known. You’re the reason I was mysteriously upgraded to first class for this leg of the trip, huh.”

She shrugs and smiles. “Thought it would be a nice coming-home present.”

“And you aren’t, by chance, in the next seat?”

“If you play your cards right, maybe.”

She still feels that intense awareness humming just under her skin, but they’re settling into their familiar rhythms and she’s starting to relax a little. He asks about where she’s living, and since George has moved in with the person she’s dating, Nancy has finished unpacking at her new place, a nice two-bedroom in a nice building in Chicago. She did a favor for the owner of the building and he gave her a deal on the rent, but the few nights she’s been home with nothing to do and no cases to work on, the place has felt too quiet. Because she’s alone.

They talk until the plane starts to board, but she can tell his energy is flagging. She guides him to his seat, and his eyes are closed as soon as his carry-on is safely stowed.

Once she’s buckled in, she gently nudges his shoulder. “Hey,” she whispers. “After the plane takes off you can recline your seat so you don’t get there with a cramp in your neck.”

“Mmm,” he murmurs in agreement, stifling a yawn as he opens his eyes again. “I’m sorry, Nan. I’m just beat. I can’t even imagine how good it’s gonna be to climb into a nice, warm, soft bed tonight…”

“Here.” She guides his head down to her shoulder, and he releases a soft sigh as he closes his eyes.

After the plane has taken off, she wakes him just long enough to get him to recline his seat, then reclines hers as well. They move close to each other, their hands joined, and though she closes her eyes, she’s too excited to sleep.

He's  _home_. And they are going to be together again. She’s missed him so much it was like a hole inside her, and now he's  _home_.

His parents and several of the friends who bid him farewell are waiting at O'Hare to greet him, and all of them want a piece of his time and attention. They’ve arranged a little party to celebrate his return, and she squeezes his hand in sympathy just before he agrees to accompany them to the restaurant, knowing how tired he is. She’s invited too, but no one knows quite who she is, this time—whether she’s Ned’s friend or something more. And she doesn’t want to dive right back into playing the doting girlfriend, not when it will be just a performance for the people around them.

So she stays near him, but not too near; she catches his eye a few times, shares a smile or two with him, but she’s careful not to monopolize him. His parents are going to want him home, and his friends are probably just as excited to see him again as she is…

An hour into it, she approaches him and he ends the conversation he’s in with a murmured excuse. “It’s getting late,” she says softly, “and I know everyone wants to hang out with you, so I’m gonna head home. Call me after you’ve had a solid forty-eight hours of sleep, all right?”

He grins and wraps her in a hug. “Doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” he murmurs. “Look, thanks for meeting me. It meant a lot. And I will call you, I promise. We have a lot of missed time to catch up on, Drew.”

She returns his hug, closing her eyes. “We do,” she agrees softly. “I’ll see you soon, Ned.”

He kisses her cheek and releases her, and when she looks into his eyes, though he’s clearly running on energy he’s probably stolen from his future self, the expression she sees there makes her catch her breath. He takes her hand in his and gives it a squeeze, and she gives him a smile.

Back at her apartment, as she prepares for bed, she can’t stop smiling. Once she’s in her long-sleeved henley and flannel pants and fuzzy socks, she does a little dance. He's  _home_. He’s home and soon they’ll be hanging out together again…

She settles on the couch with the television remote and a mystery novel she’s been trying to read the past month, with little time or success. The room feels warm and comfortable, illuminated by the golden light from the lamp and the blue glow of the television, and she pulls the afghan over her legs and snuggles in for the night, still pinching herself every now and then to make sure she’s not dreaming.

Then her cell phone chirps.  _Before I forget - your address?_

She types it in, her eyebrow raised, and ends with  _Now get some rest!_

_Will do._

Forty-five minutes later, she’s just beginning to feel sleepy when she hears a knock on her apartment door. She’s instantly wary as she tosses the blanket off, silently moving toward the door so she can look through the peephole.

Then she immediately unbolts the door and opens it. “Ned? What are you doing here?”

“You told me to get some rest,” he points out with a smile. “And I was hoping this really great girl I know might let her old boyfriend crash with her for the night. You’re okay with a temporary roommate, right?”

She steps back with her eyebrows up and he walks in with his carry-on bag, moving slowly. She has no idea how he’s still awake. He has to be dead on his feet.

“I guess I could put up with a temporary roommate, especially a cute one,” she says as she closes the door behind him. “But, I don’t know… I’m hoping for something a bit more permanent.”

“Mmm. And here I am, with nowhere to stay.” He steps toward her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her. “Sorry for surprising you… I just couldn’t say goodnight to you just yet, not yet…”

She presses a lingering kiss against his cheek. “Come on, Ned. Let’s get you to bed.”

She knows it’s a mistake, but she steers him toward her bed instead of the one in the guest bedroom; she helps him take his shoes and socks off, and he moves under the covers while swallowing a yawn. She returns to the living room to turn everything off for the night, fully expecting him to be asleep when she returns—and his breathing is soft and even.

But he’s here, and the sight of him is like Christmas morning.

She snuggles into his arms and feels herself relax, truly relax, for the first time since he left. His breath ruffles her hair and she feels the steady beat of his heart against her skin.

“Stay here with me,” she whispers, knowing he can’t hear her, that it’s too soon, that they can’t be ready—but it doesn’t change the way she feels. “Just stay here with me.”

He makes a soft sound, and his arm tightens around her. “Forever?” he mumbles, and her heart skips a beat.

“Forever,” she whispers, her face against his chest.

He yawns and snuggles closer to her. “Okay,” he whispers.


End file.
